Tea in His Thoughts
by DK2005
Summary: Chandler/Kent. Tea in the office after hours. SLASHY. Obviously, I do not own Whitechapel or any of the characters. I'm just using them to do unspeakable things.


_**Tea in His Thoughts.**_

If he was going to do it, it would have to be tonight. And if he was going to have a cup of tea, it would have to be now. If he waited longer, he might lose the chance to do either, or both.

DI Joseph Chandler straightened up on his chair, nestled behind his sizeable desk and impeccably neat office. Eyeing the shadows moving about outside, he squinted to focus on one specific figure.

Outside, in a safe distance behind his office window, DC Emerson Kent sat with his chin resting on one hand, the other busy clicking away at the computer mouse. And next to him, a white mug.

Tea? Or coffee?

Chandler shifted, pondering away at which blend he could be having right now. He thought for a second, then his tongue slipped out involuntarily, as if trying to help him decide.

What flavour?

Emerson Kent took a sip from his mug.

What flavour is his? What flavour is _he_?

The young DC's eyes darted a little, and Chandler blinked, hoping he didn't catch him looking.

Or _staring_.

But he doubted Kent knew. Or suspected anything.

Chandler looked at his own empty mug on his desk, waiting to be filled.

Outside, Emerson Kent was about to start on that other pesky report from last week, when he noticed most of his colleagues have either left their desks or are waving their good nights. He muttered something along the lines of "Won't be long. See you all tomorrow."

He had this inkling feeling that his boss was half working away, half _supervising_ him, from the other side of the blinds. Why else would it be angled that way? Chandler can see out, but Kent can't see in.

Taking a final sip from his mug, which turned out to have nothing left but a few overly sweet drops, he sighed.

He pondered whether it was worth making up a new one. Instant coffee had always done the job fine...at least until now. Or maybe it's time to make a short trip to the nearest cafe and actually pay for a proper cup of coffee. A strong shot of espresso maybe? Or perhaps a creamy, comforting cappuccino?

He knew he needed just that bit more.

Something more polished, something _better_.

Maybe he should ask if his boss would like one out of courtesy.

If he was going to do it, it would have to be tonight.

Growing up, Chandler had always known of the classic brews, mainly two. The homely, comforting English Breakfast, or a slightly more spicy and fragrant Earl Grey. The occasional mix of sugar or milk added more dimension to his tea, more depth, more body.

Then he really grew up, and the demands of his job introduced him to the bitter, awakening hit of caffeine. There was nothing comforting about the odd cup of coffee, but he couldn't deny that he needed it at times. A quick fix found in a black or an espresso shot. A more comfortable fix but still energising in the milky variety.

But then he realised that that much caffeine can't be good for anyone. Sometimes even black tea can contain a bit too much of it.

So when he discovered the Oriental variety, namely green tea or jasmine tea, there was no turning back.

The green, in particular, was alien, new and exotic. But he enjoyed its soothing quality at the same time.

He looked up once again, and now there really was only Kent left in the office outside.

If he was going to do it, it would have to be tonight. And if he was going to fill his mug, he'd better decide what he's having now.

Chandler had almost decided when he noticed the DC was getting up from his chair, then made his way towards the direction of his office.

DC Emerson Kent didn't know what to make of his new boss when he first met him. But it was certainly not anything unpleasant.

At his age, he'd had his fair share of late nights, both quiet and loud. It felt ages ago, when soft drinks became booze and when tea or milk became coffee. Then all those beverages became even stronger. Beer became tequila shots. Cappuccino became double espressos.

Alongside, his career in crime went from strength to strength. Leaders and superiors came and gone. He himself slowly moved up the career ladder.

Then he noticed also, that this time, his superior might be the strongest yet.

He looked at his empty mug, thought for a minute, and decided.

Just like the way he had decided that day when DI Chandler came into the office. His gut feeling told him that he was different. There was something about him. Something that made him want to be a part of his team. His world.

And he'd decided he'd follow him.

A coffee offer might not have been the best representation of his loyalty. But if he was going to do it, it would have to be tonight...very soon.

But Emerson Kent had made that decision.

He got up, and pushed his chair under his desk.

Maybe it was the way he looked at him with such respect, such awe. Maybe it was the way his eyes light up everytime he'd complimented him. From the first day, even though he didn't stand up much, Chandler noticed that Kent was the only one who reluctantly stood up when all his colleagues were leaving him, right after DS Miles declared "End of shift. Unless you're authorising double time."

Emerson Kent was different.

Like the green tea he had for the first time. Fresh, new, and exciting. But with a specific comfort and warmth. And the more he had it, the more it tasted like a friend, a confidante.

Like loyalty.

He wondered what _Kent_ tasted like.

Chandler swallowed. And pretended he was not aware of Kent approaching his office. He gave a few seconds break before he responded to the young DC's knock on his door.

"Come in, Kent."

Emerson Kent was well aware that his superior wasn't without fault. That time he mistook him as a mole during the Krays case, he couldn't believe it. He didn't expect those few words from his DI could cut him up so easily. It was like his first taste of coffee. That shock to the system was so unbelievable, he never thought something so bitter existed, let alone coming from _someone_ .

Although after many years of experience Kent learned that he just had to live with the bitterness to stay awake and go beyond. You can lace it up with sugar, or soften the blow with milk.

So when Chandler finally apologised, he had never been so relieved. Strangely enough, it made him feel better about himself.

Not because of the apology per se, but because he realised even his DI makes mistakes. By himself, he can't be everything. He is everything because of his team.

Because of Kent.

He knew he'd always done his best, to support the DI he so looked up to. And rare as it is, when a compliment rolls out from his mouth, Kent couldn't (or _wouldn't_?) hide his slightly smug smile.

And tonight, just the thought of Chandler probably watching him from his office made him stir inside. It's that feeling of being noticed.

That he, in particular, _noticed_ him.

He licked his lips unconsciously, and again at the first set of knocks.

When he heard a positive response from the DI inside, he stepped in with slight enthusiasm – like when the brew of his request is close to completion.

Actually, come to think of it, he was really craving for a perfect cup of coffee.

So if he was going to do it, he would have to do it tonight.

"What is it, Kent?"

Joseph Chandler could just sense a hint of nervousness in his DC's tone when it took him two attempts to finish a sentence about coffee.

"I was, uh, I was just wondering if...well, I'm just going down the road to get a coffee and was just wondering if you would like one too."

Maybe it was the fact that mid-sentence, Kent realised that he didn't even bother to check if his boss even drink coffee.

"Oh..," Chandler looked at him blankly for a second. "Actually, I haven't had coffee for a long time..."

Now it was Kent's turn to "oh".

"Sorry, Sir...maybe tea, then?"

Chandler quickly went to safe mode, "No, don't be sorry. That's kind of you, Kent, but, no, I'll be fine – thank you for offering."

"Alright."

The young DC was about to step away from his desk when Chandler realised he wanted to ask him something.

"You're still here, Kent? I thought shift ended about 20 minutes ago."

Kent declared almost with a sense of pride that his boss really was noticing him.

"I'm just finishing a report, Sir. It's just the admin details that took awhile."

"Right, well, looks like we'll both be having a late night then," Chandler thought of the lightest reply he could think of.

"That's why I kind of need that coffee," Kent said with a smile. "I'll see you in a minute Sir."

"Don't worry, I'll still be here. Wouldn't want to leave you alone – goodness knows what happened here last time you stayed late," Chandler said in the friendliest tone he could muster.

Kent almost saw the affectionate side of that sentence, until what came later sounded like something else to him. Something uncomfortable built inside him, his smile gone in a second.

"What's that supposed to mean, Sir?"

Chandler didn't see this coming. "What?"

"You mean when I got _ambushed _the last time I stayed late, _alone_, in the office?"

The DI was stunned silent as he heard the offended tone spilling out of his DC's mouth. And this silence translated to something else for Kent.

"Is that how much you _still _don't trust me, Sir?"

Chandler got up from his chair, when he realised what Kent interpreted his last sentence as.

"Kent, I didn't mean it like that..."

The DC was looking at him with eyes filled with disbelief – but more so, _hurt_.

Emerson Kent felt that familiar bitterness again, the bitterness of distrust, the bitterness of suspicion – and more so, exclusion.

From his team.

From _him_.

Kent didn't know when he started feeling such attachment to his DI, and strangely enough it's moments like this that got him reminded of it.

And it's nothing short of frustrating.

He had come in with the perfect cup of coffee in his head – only to receive a badly burnt one.

"Sir, can you please be honest with me," he finally gathered a sentence carefully.

"I am, Kent!"

"Do you trust me being in the office without your supervision, case files and all?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then why..."Kent stopped short. He realised that he wasn't even sure whether his boss really _was_ secretly watching him from behind his desk inside his office - through the blinds.

Chandler shoved both hands in his pockets, looked down on his desk and took a breath. He used that moment of quiet to continue explaining himself.

And what came out startled Kent a little.

"I was actually referring to the last time you were staying back late alone – yes, when you were ambushed - you could've gotten hurt again," the last few words trailed off as the DI was reminded again of the guilt he felt when the DC was attacked during the Krays case. Not to mention ambushed in the office after that.

The young DC took this in, but still stubbornly frowned, refusing to look at his boss in the eye. Interesting that it was only just now that he thought about the cup of coffee with all its bitterness.

He wasn't perfect.

But he's surely not bad for him. Or to him.

Or was he?

Chandler searched his eyes, and Kent reluctantly looked up.

"Sir, I..."

"It's OK, Kent," his superior interrupted, stepped around his sizable desk, and found himself a few inches away from him.

"Sorry, Sir - that was out of line."

A slight relief calmed the DI as Kent's eyes softened.

"It may be difficult to see...but, I actually...do care...about you, I mean," Chandler replied – like he was confirming his own thoughts out loud.

Kent shifted aside. He could almost _smell_ Chandler's scent. Clean, smooth, but with a certain depth to it.

"Thank you, Sir...," suddenly guilt overcame him. Maybe he was exhausted. Maybe that clouded his judgement. "I guess...I really needed that coffee more than I thought..."

Before he knew it, his DI was stepping closer towards him, landing a reassuring hand on his arms.

Chandler felt an overwhelming drive to do something...something more. He wanted to convince Kent that he was on his side, always had been – and he cared.

And a little more than that.

He did think earlier tonight, if he was going to do it, it had to be tonight. If he was going to fill his cup, he would only find the best brew out of them all.

That was what he'd felt. That was why his DC had been lingering in and out of his head, and that was why he felt the need to watch him – just every now and then – through the blinds of his office.

Kent didn't even have the time to lift up his gaze towards his boss.

The DI leant his face forward, and without a single drop of doubt silenced his DC with a firm kiss.

"Wh...?"

Kent mouthed something, but he was too stunned to think of anything. It was a sound – slightly breathless, slightly stunned...

"Sir...?"

...but not at all negative.

Chandler kept his face close, he took in the sight of his DC, still glued to him...and now his eyes.

If he was going to do it, it would have to be tonight.

He just did.

He was aware, very aware of the consequences. His DC could push him away and ran out the door screaming, thinking he was some kind of sick pervert – or at the very least, shocked, confused, maybe even disgusted?

"I do care...Kent."

This time, it was Kent who crushed his lips into him, it was Kent who grabbed one side of his arm and pulled him closer.

Closer still.

Maybe it was Chandler's reassuring words, maybe it was his unexpected attention, or his sudden, haste move – to show him.

To take action – _on_ him.

There was something inappropriately exciting about this. Like that hit of caffeine too late at night – you're not supposed to, but that _kick_ is so intoxicating. Kent relished in this new – but not all too unfamiliar – sensation. Somehow, before they moved further, Kent managed to gather his thoughts to tell his boss how he felt for a while now.

"So do I...I care alot...about what you think of me..."

That did it for Chandler. If his cup was empty an hour ago, it was more than certainly full now, up to the brim – hot and ready, waiting to be savoured.

Kent's mouth devoured his, his warm breath seeped through – this was something new, but very very pleasant.

Kent was the brew he'd craved for all night – but he was more, so much more. The taste of his lips and tongue, was beyond the dimension of his usual flow of green tea. His smell and warmth, was beyond the exotic freshness of jasmine tea.

Chandler wanted more. Kent's arms were wrapped around him, his mouth refusing to let go of his boss' face.

With one swift movement, the DI took advantage of his taller frame and gently pushed his DC down towards the couch nestled at the corner of his office. Still kissing his face, deep blue eyes looking down on emerald green eyes, "We can stop whenever you want..."

Kent let out a slightly frustrated sigh "You're joking, Sir..."

Formalities aside, Chandler enjoyed this strange contrast between his superiority and this brutally, inappropriate act. And those sounds that escaped Kent's mouth – _oh God_ – shot straight through him, all over him…to that spot between his legs.

Kent was all over him now – and he wanted nothing less of it. Kissing, caressing, touching, pressing against each other, it was like this hunger, this thirst – longing to be quenched over and over again.

Chandler's hand moved up to unbutton his DC's shirt, exposing porcelain skin – he wanted to bury his face in that enticing curve between his neck and chest, inhaling his smell – wondering if it's earthy, sweet or slightly more musky...

Kent didn't give his DI that much chance – he had already snuck his arms out and ran down Chandler's chest, searching for buttons, and realised he had a wide, silky tie in the way.

At some point, both men managed to slip out of their suit and suit jackets – thrown across the bench and chair – trust Chandler to ensure clothing stays off the floor even at this moment.

The shuffling of clothes, the sliding of touches, the inhales and exhales…this was…so…indescribable.

His DC was literally pulling at his tie now, demanding it to come off – and that childish desire for instant gratification somehow aroused him even more.

He wanted to have him all to himself, he wanted to consume all of his DC – but like all kinds of gluttony, he never wanted it to end either.

His perfect brew.

In a neverending cup.

"Sir...I want..."Kent let out words in panting breaths, and Chandler felt what he craved for, he understood in a second, and landed another crashing kiss on his DC's mouth – just as he managed to toss his tie off his neck.

Grabbing at the collar, the two men impatiently pushed each other's shirt off – exposing porcelain and tanned skin, rubbing against each other.

"Oh...Kent..."Chandler let out a moan, as the feeling of Kent writhing under him added another throb in his already aching erection. He had no words to describe it, just one drive, one instinct, a raw...

...want.

He craved his DC, he needed to devour him, he wanted to taste his flavour, to drink his very essence – if that was ever possible – hear him moan, sigh, breathlessly panting his name...

"Sir...ah!"

Chandler realised he nudged on his DC's erection – aching as much as his own – demanding attention.

Right about _now_.

With one pleading gaze, Chandler's mind was made, and as swiftly as he could – occasional cursing while fumbling with his fly, suddenly trickier to undo than usual – he freed his weeping erection, which Kent relished with a soft cup of his hand. Kent's own was exposed not long after, already slick with clear pre-come and quivering with anticipation.

Chandler positioned himself and slathering his own wetness along his throbbing –and demanding- organ, he began to touch Kent's – and he was immediately rewarded with a strangled "ah".

He started to move, and the clinking of belts and rubbing of fabric beside them made the most obscene sounds they had ever known.

Among the blurry moments, Chandler could just make up the ravishing figure underneath him, dark curls framing his porcelain face now flushed a deep shade of pink, eyes in between half open and tightly shut, breathing heavily between kisses...

It was the most insatiable sight he'd ever seen in his life, and the boiling-hot liquid effect flow through him, burning him straight to the core.

Kent was practically gagging for it now, and Chandler bent down to kiss his DC hungrily, stifling his moans, not that he did a very good job of it. He thrust up, and Kent followed, their aching erections drenched with each other's juices sliding up and down each other. Soon enough, Kent grabbed at Chandler's hands, searching for his fingers, then intertwined them like they couldn't get deep enough into one another.

The DI used this as leverage, he lifted himself up slightly, and moved faster.

More. He wanted more.

"Kent!"

Not enough…no…not yet…

"Ohh…"

There. Just...almost...

"Sir, I'm going to..."

That did it for Chandler. Within seconds, bursts of protein spilled all over the DC's stomach – and this pushed him over the edge too. Kent came harder and noisier, a squirt of semen landed on his boss' neck...

The DI collapsed panting heavily, the weight of all his being – body, mind and soul – almost squashing the porcelain body underneath him. The sticky wetness of each other's juices instantly dismissed – along with the frazzle of the afterglow.

There was nothing but ... relief. Pleasure. And then back to relief.

It took Kent a minute or two to orientate himself again. He was still in his DI's office, lying on the couch wearing not much but his shirt and jacket draped over him.

Then he realised that his boss was already off him, cleaned up and now standing, watching over him from behind his desk, fully dressed except for his tie - looking impeccable as usual.

"Sir...I'm sorry, I..."

Chandler interrupted him, "That's alright, Kent, you fell asleep. Not that long, mind."

He smiled at him and the two exchanged looks that only they understood.

It was a look that said that what happened was nothing short of perfect.

"Right."

They were each other's perfect brew.

As Kent dressed up, Chandler walked over and handed him a mug.

"Green tea?"

"Thank you, Sir."

Kent took a sip, and it was warm, yet refreshing.

Like a new start between them.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Kent?"

Kent smiled mischievous smile.

"Next time, I'll take you for a coffee."

Chandler gave a pondering look, "I suppose I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee every once in a while."

"A really, really good coffee."

"Oh?"

"Trust me Sir, I know good coffee when I see one."


End file.
